Voodoo
by Lely00
Summary: "He held the doll tightly, now in the grip of a blind fury. He had already hit its leg and its right arm. He stared at those small eyes again, as he took the last needle from the table, studying his last move, the fatal one. The stab in the puppet's heart was harder, harder to settle. Maybe it was only because his hands were shaking uncontrollably at that moment." AUfic!Slash!


**I don't know why I had this bizarre idea, but I hope you like it! Reviews of all kind are always well accepted!**

He had spent hours staring at that little puppet he had in his hands, as if he expected that at any moment those little lips of cloth, so similar to **his** lips, would open up to tell him "you're doing the right thing!"  
In fact, the more time passed, the more Aaron felt like a perfect idiot, sitting in his kitchen, completely dark if not for the only candle that was melting slowly before his eyes.  
Right now he did not even know what to do with that doll.  
He had never believed such things, let alone use them!  
But he was so angry, and when he saw it in that window, in that bizarre shop in central Washington, something had pushed him to buy it.  
The mistress had guaranteed him a sure effect.  
He was very skeptical, but he had to do something to placate the mad desire that he had to hurt **him** , to see **him** writhing in pain because of him.  
And he had always been against violence!  
For this he had decided to use it: he didn't want to do something that, he was sure, he would have regretted bitterly.  
He ran a hand through those woolly curls as if he were stroking **his** hair, he looked at the gold of those little eyes as if they were **his** irises, the eyes that made him fell in love.  
And, without even realizing it, he found himself crying.  
In the darkness of the room, Aaron stared at the little rag doll, so similar to **him** , between his fingers, as if it really was **him** , as if he could really hurt **him** and, who knows, maybe even kill **him**.. .  
"What spell did you do to reduce me like this?"  
He knew it wouldn't work, how could something like that work?  
But perhaps, only believing to be really capable of making **him** pay would have made him feel a little better…  
So, with trembling hands and anger in his heart, he grabbed a needle from the pile he had prepared on the table and brought it to the puppet's face.  
He imagined **him** crying and trembling under him, while a knife moved on **his** perfect face, until it stopped under one of **his** eye ...  
Those eyes **, his** eyes, had been the first thing to make him fall in love, that night, when **he** had entered his life ...

* * *

 _He had entered that bar without a real reason.  
He had just finished his shift at the garage and just wanted to drink cheap beer and eat peanuts before returning to his empty apartment. After his wife had died, he felt so lonely.  
But when he saw __**him**_ _come in, he nearly knocked the whole pint of beer over the counter.  
His eyes, gold as amber, did not look at anyone in particular, yet they still managed to be persuasive and provocative.  
Suddenly, Aaron began to feel very hot.  
The boy sat down beside him, without giving him a look.  
He had the most curly, soft hair that Aaron had ever seen, of a beautiful light brown.  
The stranger raised his hand to attract the barman's attention and ordered a glass of absinthe.  
"Oh god!" Aaron had thought "This kid wants to waste himself!"  
He wasn't one of those guys who took initiative but, by a strange twist of fate, he found himself saying to the bartender "Give him two! »  
The words didn't have time to leave his lips, that immediately the stranger had turned to him, staring at him with surprise written in his beautiful eyes.  
"Thanks .." he had said with a big smile ...  
After that moment, the successive absinthe glasses they had ordered had erased many of the memories of that evening._

 _Aaron remembered liters and liters of alcohol, his smile, his voice ...  
Then his bed ... his body trembling on the white sheets, their sweat binding them, his screams of pain mixed with pleasure ...  
The next morning, for the first time in a long time, Aaron had woken up with someone by his side.  
He had felt happy.  
But then, the stranger had escaped without even an explanation, it took only Aaron's smile to make him disappear from his apartment.  
He had shouted at him not to go, but he couldn't stop him anyway.  
He was angry or maybe ... sad. Disappointed.  
He returned to his bedroom, letting himself go on the bed that still smelled like __**him**_ _.  
There was a small white card, abandoned on his bedside table.  
He grabbed it, and was surprised when he read a phone number on it ..._

* * *

He was crying, as he stroked the doll's small right arm with the needle, stabbing him hard just a second later.  
The needle disappeared into the fabric with ease, soft and precise.  
He pulled it out gently, without haste, as if to prolong **his** agony.  
He ran it again all along the small body, taking the time to choose the next move ...  
The tip of the needle touched the small stuffed leg this time, disappearing again, sucked in the fabric.  
He imagined **him** again writhing in pain, while he satisfied Aaron's blind fury with his shouts and his prayers.  
"How could you do this to me?"...

* * *

 _I_ _t hadn't been difficult to find his apartment, he had only needed to ask a few questions around.  
All his neighbors described him as a golden boy, kind and sympathetic, though a little too shy and silent.  
He had thought it strange, the boy he had met had not seemed shy at all.  
Aaron stood in front of the number 3 of the building, staring at the wooden door.  
He thought it was a bad idea at the exact moment the doorbell rang.  
He was almost relieved when no one opened the door.  
He started to leave, dejected, when suddenly the door opened.  
It was him, as beautiful as that evening.  
Even though his face did not look the same ..._ _  
_ _The boy had taken a moment to recognize him.  
At first he had seemed shocked, then even scared.  
A second later his eyes had turned cold and dark, evil as if they were full of poison.  
He tried to say something, but the kid had beaten him over time.  
" What are you doing here? "His voice was hoarse, hurried ... annoyed.  
Aaron had felt like a fish out of water.  
He stood there, staring at him, only managing to show him the note in his hand. The note he had given him.  
What happened after really left him speechless.  
The boy stared at the small piece of paper in horror.  
Aaron saw him take a quick look inside his apartment, scared again, and then grab the small piece of paper and tear it under his terrified eyes.  
"Go away," he spat out, poisonous.  
"B- but w- what ...? "Aaron was speechless, that was absolutely not the guy he had been obsessed with for weeks._

 _He wasn't sweet, beautiful and kind.  
His thoughts were interrupted when someone else showed up at the door, next to the young man.  
A tall, muscular man with short black hair and tiny little eyes that looked bad and slimy to Aaron.  
The man put his arm around the young man's waist in a very possessive way, making the other jerk slightly.  
Then, taking a long swig from the bottle of beer in his hand, the newcomer stared at Aaron as if he was looking at a pile of rubbish.  
"Who is this guy? »  
Aaron opened his mouth to reply, but once again the boy surprised him.  
Quick as lightning he threw his arms around the man's neck and kissed him passionately on his lips, leaving Aaron to stare at them both like an idiot.  
When the young man (finally) interrupted that kiss, he looked at Aaron again "No one ... he got the wrong address ..." he exclaimed, slamming the door shut just a second later.  
Once again, Aaron found himself staring at the closed door of that apartment, terrified for what he had seen, for what had happened.  
He had been used ... that brat had used him as a replacement __for a simple fuck ... and he had fallen in love with him as if he was an angel fallen down to earth.  
He was tempted to knock on the door again to tell that man what his "little angel" had done , but he left his hand in midair, and then let it go against his hips and tighten it in a steel fist.  
He walked down the steps of the apartment building with hard steps, as if he was trampling __**his**_ _innocent face with every step.  
"_ _ **I'll make you pay, you'll see!**_ _"_

* * *

He held the doll tightly, now in the grip of a blind fury.  
He had already hit its leg and its right arm.  
He stared at those small eyes again, as he took the last needle from the table, studying his last move, the fatal one.  
The stab in the puppet's heart was harder, harder to settle.  
Maybe it was only because his hands were shaking uncontrollably at that moment.

He tossed the little doll away and it fell across the table, hazel eyes staring blankly at the ceiling and all the needle sunk into the chest.  
Aaron stopped for a moment to catch his breath.  
While he was still panting, calling himself an idiot for what he had done, he stopped for a second to look at the doll again.  
There was something different about it.  
"How strange ..." he murmured, "It **really** seems dead ..."

* * *

Spencer stared at his reflection in the mirror with bright eyes and, in particular, he looked at the fresh-new black eye that Mark had given him a few moments before.  
Apparently, telling him that that stranger had got the wrong address was not enough to calm his jealousy.  
But he had to do it, he had to lie, if only to save that kind stranger from the fury of his boyfriend.  
He would have covered the bruise with a pair of sunglasses, he had no time to cover it with makeup like he did every morning.  
He had to go to class and the little fight with Mark had only made him waste time.  
He touched the swollen eye again and jumped in pain. He had been very violent this time.  
And he had deserved it all.

That evening at the pub, when he'd go home with the stranger, he just wanted to have some fun, and not to think about anything, after the umpteenth fight with his boyfriend.  
He had behaved like a real whore.  
And Mark was right to beat him, it was the only way to keep him good.  
Spencer nodded, looking at his reflection, as if to convince himself that his reasoning was absolutely right.  
He started to put on his big sunglasses when he heard it.  
A very strong pain, like a stab, that radiated throughout his right arm.  
His glasses fell from his hands , crashing into a million pieces on the floor.  
The boy let out a small cry and grabbed his arm.  
He was terrified, the pain didn't seem to go away and he could not move his arm anymore.  
He got up and ran to the door, shouting "Mark! Mark!"

He knew that the other man wouldn't listen to him, he was probably drunk and watching tv absentmindedly .  
"Mark ! Help! Aaaaahhhh !"  
When, a few seconds later, his right leg was also struck by the excruciating pain and stopped working, Spencer fell to the ground with a thud and another faint cry.  
He lay on the ground, helpless for a few minutes.  
Only a few tears left his eyes and wet his pale cheeks.  
" Help... "  
"Hey, didn't you have to go to class? »  
It was in that state that Mark found him, only five minutes later.  
His eyes, shining like gold stared blankly at the ceiling, his mouth was wide open in a last silent cry...  
His right hand gripped his heart hard.  
That heart that, according to the coroner who took care of him later, had inexplicably stopped beating just a few minutes earlier.

 **The end**


End file.
